In what has become an almost annual event (two Easters in a row, anyway) I made the trek to Looma for a couple of days of fishing – this time with Emma in tow! We travelled across with a couple of friends, Troy and Sally – Troy taught in Looma for four years, and for him it was as much a chance to catch up with his adopted family as much as relaxation.
After a quick lunch in Camballin, we thought we’d drive to check out some camping spots… unfortunately, the water doesn’t flow downstream as quickly as we thought! Whereas in Fitzroy, the water is low again, and almost beginning to clear up, the creeks around Looma were still in full flood – the closest we were able to get to the Fitzroy River was about ten kilometres away! Needless to say, this limited the fishing.
We trekked back into New Looma and met up with the family. They suggested a billabong right in front of the Liveringa Station homestead (Looma is on Liveringa land). When we showed reservations about effectively camping in someone’s front yard we were assurred that no-one lived there as it had been condemned. We trotted off, set up camp, and then launched the boat and kayaks into the billabong and proceeded to fish (unsuccessfully).
About 5:30pm, the ute pulled up, the station managers who live in the homestead got out (talk about bum information!) and began to berate us. Although we were able to deflect the “This is traditional Aboriginal fishing grounds, you can’t fish here” talk by dropping the names of the Looma chairperson who had given us permission, we had to agree that it was unsavoury to camp in their front yard. They allowed us to stay that night (as it was already dark), and we packed up camp and drove back into the Looma the following day. Fun, fun!
We spent the following day relaxing at the creek crossing that cut us off from the river, launching the boat there, trying some fishing, failing, swimming and generally relaxing. At one stage, Troy motored off, and came back fairly excited about a creek joining the main creek about a kilometre upstream. He decided to motor back, while I unhitched the camper-trailer and drove the car along the track to get there. I didn’t get there. Now, I’m sure I wasn’t as badly bogged as Derek was in Herald Bight, as it only took Troy’s Troopie three running rips with the snatch-strap to heave me out. Black soil is nasty stuff, especially when you hit it in third gear. We gave up on the creek upstream.
We finished the day off with a walk from New Looma (where we stayed in the community shed rather than set up camp for one more night), with a couple of local boys showing us the Looma Rockhole, about a two kilometre walk away. Great stuff! Overall, even without the fishing, it was a most relaxing couple of days!
